


I’m just not dealing with an alien invasion right now- and other adventures

by Latart0903



Series: Strengths and weaknesses [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Humor, Garrison life, Gen, M/M, maybe some smut..., you never know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2018-10-28 11:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latart0903/pseuds/Latart0903
Summary: A collection of bonus content for the Strengths and Weaknesses series.Or: the random shit that hijacks my brain at 3 A.M.Chapter 1: Keith and CelineChapter 2: Erikson and Jules





	1. I’m just not dealing with an alien invasion right now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avidbeader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidbeader/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and his fellow classmate, Celine, bond over cigarettes, boredom, and UFOs. Maybe Keith can make an exception to his antisocial agenda and allow himself to have one friend at the Galaxy Garrison.

 

Keith readied his cigarette as he walked into the courtyard. Thank god Dr. Powell gave breaks during class; Keith didn’t think he’d be able to survive the course otherwise. Design and Circuitry was a core class for the engineering and mechanics students, but it was also a prerequisite for aviation students so that they could understand the basic design and programming behind the machines they would be flying. The reasoning made sense, but it was a boring class for aviation students, Keith included.

The students poured into the courtyard for the brief break to take advantage of the first day of decently warm weather since the Spring Quarter had started. A few students sat at the tables to eat or study, but most just horsed around like the energetically idiotic teenaged boys they were. Keith stood against the wall to smoke, rolling his eyes at their antics. One would think these kids had never been outside before.

“Neanderthals.” Keith heard a monotone voice off to his right.

He looked over and saw a fellow classmate, the only female in the entire class of 35 students, smoking against the wall no more than five feet away. Keith snorted. “Yeah, I thought we’d outgrown recess… Guess not,” he returned.

She chuckled in amusement. “They look like a swarm of moths. I think Rodgers forgot to take his meds. He’s extra bouncy today.”

Keith grinned. “I wonder… If we put a light or something shiny in the opposite corner of the courtyard, maybe they’d just stay in that area.”

She laughed out loud. “We should try it. It’ll be an experiment. Different item each day. We’ll record our observations. Which will be most successful: flashlight, piece of tin foil, or glittery bouncy ball?”

“I was going to take it as far as gluing silver glitter to a Playboy magazine…” Keith smirked.

“Wow. You’re gonna arts & crafts that shit?”

“Hell yeah,” Keith said. “My sanity is at stake here…”

“Oh, you’d win. What was I thinking? Tin foil…” She paused and took a few steps closer. “I’m Celine, by the way.”

Keith looked over and gave her his friendliest facial expression, which wasn’t much: a half-smile and a nod. “Keith.” Celine had on the standard cadet uniform but wore a red and black plaid flannel shirt tied around her waist. Her dark auburn hair hung down from a black baseball cap that she wore backwards. Her blood-red nail polish was severely chipped.

Dr. Powell poked his head into the courtyard. “OK, guys. Break’s over, back inside. We’ve got a lot to finish.”

“Gotta go troubleshoot my piece-of-shit circuit board. Talk to you later,” Celine said as she flicked her cigarette butt in the direction of the swarming boys and turned to head back inside.

\-----

During the next class later that week, the two students found themselves standing along the courtyard wall again.

“Bring anything shiny?” Celine asked as she approached, lighting her cigarette.

“Damn, I knew I forgot something,” Keith bantered.

“I was counting on you and your bedazzled porn,” she fake-complained.

Keith snickered, “I was out of rhinestones...”

“Damn. If I’d known, I would’ve brought my sparkly pipe cleaners and puffy paint… Well, this is going to be a boring smoke break, now isn’t it?” Celine smirked.

Keith didn’t respond. He watched the boys crowd on top of a few tables, watching replays and highlights of a basketball game from the night prior. “Huh... Actually, they were more entertaining to watch running around. Gave me something to be annoyed with,” Keith mused.

“Want me to go poke ‘em with a stick? See what happens?” Today’s flannel shirt was a tonal blue plaid worn over her uniform.

Keith laughed. “I’d buy you a pack of cigarettes if you did that.”

“Hmmm… I might have to take you up on that,” she smiled. “Who do you get your cigarettes from, anyway?”

“I just bribe whoever’s manning commissary.”

“What?! That’s such a rip off! Sergeant Keller hooks it up. You gotta talk to him! Why didn’t you ask around?” Celine asked.

“Meh… that involves... talking to people. I’m fine with paying higher prices for less human interaction,” Keith said.

“Too rich for _my_ blood,” Celine joked.

Keith grunted, “Hardly. More like, too _awkward_ for your blood…”

Keith could see her studying him from the corner of his eye. “Where are you from?” she asked.

“Different areas around L.A.”

“Cool, I’ve never been. I’m from Canada. Born in Quebec, but I grew up near Toronto. If you start saying, ‘eh?’ after everything I say, or sing ‘Blame Canada’, I’ll strangle you.”

“Don’t tempt me, I’ve been looking for someone to put me out of my misery for a while now…” Keith smirked.

“Wow, you’re worse than me,” Celine laughed. “I thought my angst could not be out-angsted.”

Keith looked over and smiled. “You have _no_ idea…”

They stood against the wall in a comfortable silence for the remaining five minutes of break.

\-----

As the spring weather improved, the smoke break frequency increased. The boys in the class today were all animatedly talking about the new, hot lab assistant as they tossed around a foam football.

As usual, Celine walked over and leaned against the wall a few feet away from Keith and initiated a conversation by making fun of their classmates. “‘Dude, bro. She’s so hot,’” she imitated.

Keith giggled and then decided to play along. “‘She totally checked me out, bro,’” Keith replied.

“‘Dude, bro, her boobs are so big,’” Celine dead-panned.

“‘Bro, I’m gonna totally ask her out, bro,’” Keith bantered.

“Extra points for two ‘bros’ in one sentence! Nice! ‘Bro, seriously. She’s into you, bro,’” Celine laughed.

“‘Bro…’ I can’t- This is killing my brain cells,” Keith joked. “How do you deal with these guys in _all_ of your classes? That must be really annoying.”

“Ugh, I know. They all get in a hormonal frenzy the second they see any sort of cleavage.”

“Ew.” Keith wrinkled his nose.

“‘Ew’ cleavage? Or ‘ew’ hormonal teenaged boy frenzy?”

Keith thought about it. “Both.”

“Awww. My friend Kristin is gonna be so bummed. She’s got a little crush on you.”

Keith was surprised. “What?!”

“I’ll let her down easy, don’t worry,” Celine said. “She’s always goes for the boys that aren’t into girls… You’d think she’d catch on by now...”

Keith snorted. “I don’t even- Was she in one of my classes?”

“Oh my god, you’re so oblivious. She’s a physics student. You guys were both in Quantum Systems last quarter, no?”

“Huh… I don’t really pay attention to other people.” Keith shrugged.

“Yeah…” Celine nodded, taking a long drag of her cigarette. Then, under her breath, she muttered, “I noticed…”

They finished their smoke break in comfortable silence again, save for the occasional snicker when they overheard choice phrases from the hormonal teenaged boy squad.

\-----

“So,” Keith actually initiated the conversation today. “What made you pick the mechanics track at the Garrison? You’re like, one of three girls in the whole program.” It was weird that he genuinely felt compelled to continue to have conversations with this girl. She was easy to talk to. And she wasn’t annoying like almost everyone else Keith had _ever_ spoken to.

“My dad’s a total car guy. Plus, I just always liked taking shit apart when I was a kid. Our toaster would burn out and then my mom would let me tear it apart and reassemble it. It was more fun than playing with my Barbies. And aside from that, space exploration really interests me,” she answered.

“Yeah? The space thing for me is OK. I just want to fly and the Garrison has the best flight school.” Keith shrugged.

“How is space just ‘OK’ for you? Someday we’re going to have to fight aliens and shit. That’s so fucking cool,” Celine said.

“Come the fuck on, there are no aliens…” Keith rolled his eyes.

“There totally ARE aliens! I’ve seen some shit before. That’s what got me interested in space!”

Keith looked over with skepticism. “Seriously? What ‘shit’ have you seen?”

“It was a few years ago; I was in my backyard, fixing my bike. I looked up and I saw this hazy silhouette of a large, purple ship in the sky…”

Keith cut her off. “This is- No… No. Like a fucking flying saucer? A _purple_ flying saucer? That’s ridiculous.”

“No, not a flying saucer. It was a weird shape and it was enormous; kind of like a floating… cruise ship or something. But it just kind of loomed for a second and then it was gone…” Celine’s eyes were wide as she recounted her experience.

“And where did it fucking go?” Keith questioned, still skeptical.

“I don’t know; I’m not fucking psychic.”

“Yeah, you’re psycho,” Keith replied, emphasizing the “o”.

Celine got a little flustered, “I seriously saw something purple hovering in the sky. I know what I saw.”

“Did anyone else see it?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“No…” Celine admitted. “You know how I knew it was real, though? It felt weird, but… I wasn’t afraid. I was actually annoyed. I was like, ‘I don’t have fucking time for this right now. I’ve got shit to do, school is going well, I just started going out with Bobby Dunning; not right now, not a good time for me…’ I literally thought that.”

Keith doubled over with laughter but managed to mock her between giggles “’OK, aliens… I’m gonna need you to come back later.’”

Celine laughed, “Keith! I’m serious! Stop laughing at me,” she said, swatting his shoulder.

Keith continued his mocking, “I’m just not dealing with an alien invasion right now. Maybe next week.”

“Oh my god, I hate you,” Celine joked, crossing her arms.

“That’s fine, you can spend your breaks with your friends over there,” Keith said, gesturing at their classmates’ weak attempts at parkour across the courtyard. “You can talk about the Loch Ness monster and shit.”

“Traitor! Don’t abandon me!” Celine laughed as Keith nudged her towards the other boys.

\-----

By the end of the Spring Quarter, the two had gotten to know each other fairly well but never interacted outside of class. Keith nodded and gave her an awkward smile the one time he happened to pass her in the dormitory hallways.

“Did you start your final project, yet?” Celine asked one day as she lit her cigarette during break.

“No… Every time I start, I just… get stuck. The specs are easy but actually coming up with a design is hard for me. I don’t want to just use one of the templates; I want it to be different, but I’m not very creative,” Keith admitted. “Yours is done already, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, kinda… Why didn’t you say something? I can help you,” she offered.

Keith did not like asking for help. Or favors. Or… anything from any human being for that matter. He’d always gotten by on his own. “Nah… I’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t mind. Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“Ah… I’m better off on my own, trust me,” Keith said, attempting to hold his ground. “I don’t need help. Thanks, though.”

“Keith, life is hard and sometimes, it just flat-out sucks. It doesn't hurt to have a little help…”

Keith considered this with a small smile. He didn't quite feel comfortable with accepting help… but she had a point. “It’ll be me, my shitty dorm room, and a ton of complaining…” Keith warned.

“That’s all we do together anyway. Complain… about everything.”

Keith conceded. “OK… you around this weekend?”

“Yeah, I'll see if Sergeant Keller will hook me up with a few alcoholic beverages.” She winked.

“Alcohol, cigarettes, and circuitry…” Keith mused. “Sounds a little dangerous…”

“Sounds like the best weekend _ever_!”

Keith grinned. “Ok… it’s a date, then.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celine’s alien bit was inspired by an actual thing my friend said one time. I love her so much for being pissed that a UFO was interrupting her life.
> 
> Also, huge thank you to Avidbeader, my beta, because sometimes I don’t do English good.


	2. Nineteen pleather harnesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erikson recalls an interesting encounter with Jules long before they became friends with benefits... and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "present" takes place the same day that Aftermath ends.  
> And I think you'll be able to place when the flashback occurs;)
> 
> This was inspired by [RainbowShark's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowShark) comment on Aftermath regarding Erikson's lack of clothing since Jules destroyed all polos in sight after their breakup.
> 
> And, per usual, thank you [avidbeader](http://archiveofourown.org/users/avidbeader)!!!!!!

Erikson trudged into Medina’s upstairs bathroom, too preoccupied and worn out to think about what clothes he would change into. He started the shower and then pulled his prison uniform off for the last time. The soreness from fighting was finally settling into his muscles, so he slumped in the tub, letting the water wash away the day’s sweat and the months of dirt that had infiltrated every single one of his pores. He had bathed in the camps, but never felt like he fully rid himself of the rust-colored earth that surrounded him. The mere thought of the camps made him feel as if the bathroom tile walls were closing in. Filling his lungs with a damp breath, he reminded himself that he saw the sun today, that he was on the right side of Earth’s surface. Things were going to be OK.

 

Sort of.

 

Shiro was safe, at least physically. A good night’s rest and they’d find him tomorrow. Gwansun wasn’t just being confident to ease his mind, was she? Erikson opened his eyes, hot water and steam blurring his vision, realizing that she probably was. He’d perform better if his fear of failure wasn’t muddling his concentration. 

 

But when would he have time to catch up with Jules? Tomorrow would be just as difficult as today and he had so much to say. He had to tell him how sorry he was. How stupid he’d been to think his trust fund money would patch up all of the problems caused by his insecurities. How Jules had deserved so much more. How he regretted that it’d taken so long to realize that how he felt was more than a phase. How scared he’d been to trust his heart and simply fall.

 

Closing his eyes, Erikson smiled, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around his boyfriend. He wanted to hold him tightly and tangle their limbs so that he wouldn’t be able to differentiate where his own body began and where Jules’ ended. 

 

But not tonight. He didn’t want to wake Jules, who was sleeping peacefully in the adjacent guest room. And Erikson needed rest as well. 

 

As the water rushed over him, sending his tension and sweat-soaked dust down the drain, Erikson thought back to the day when he had finally listened to the nagging deep in his heart. There were many pivotal decisions from his past: going to the Galaxy Garrison against his parents’ wishes; befriending his first roommate, Shiro, with whom he had almost nothing in common, at least on the surface; standing up to Rivali with a gun pointed to his head; meeting Gwansun and learning to meditate. While all life-changing, none were quite like meeting the future love of his life for the first- well... second time. 

 

\-----

 

From down the street, a figure caught Erikson’s eye. Through the crowd spilling out of the concert venue, he could make out bleached shoulder-length hair and one of those kimono cover-up things girls wore. His eyes trailed down and the curvature of lean but masculinely toned calves gave him pause. And then he recognized the boy he’d desperately tried to drive from his daydreams since their first meeting. That stupid meeting with a bunch of pedantic academics and this particular boy running intellectually-superior circles around him in his own goddamn boardroom.

 

Jules. No- Julian, preferably Mr. Paras. He’d made it very clear that only people he liked could call him Jules.

 

He watched the boy chatting with exaggerated gestures to the small groups of people entering the trendy boutique hotel next to the concert venue.

 

The boy glanced in his direction but Erikson was too absorbed in a strange mixture of admiration and animosity to realize he’d been staring. He suddenly came to, whirled around to avoid eye contact, and considered slinking back into the concert venue he’d just exited. But he realized that would be too obvious. Torn between standing his ground and running for cover, Erikson’s indecisive twitching caught his roommate’s attention. Woolf paused his conversation with the people they’d met at the show and raised an eyebrow. “Are you OK?” 

 

“Yes- No. I’m going back inside,” Erikson announced more loudly than he meant to.

 

“Did you leave something behind? Or are you going back to get that bartender’s number?”

 

“What bartender? I don’t know- Yeah, maybe,” he stuttered distractedly, trying not to sneak a glance over his shoulder.

 

“You don’t remember that girl? I thought you two clicked…” Woolf’s voice trailed off as he looked past Erikson and toward the hotel. “Oh, is that the guy you had that terrible meeting with?”

 

Erikson mentally cursed Woolf’s observation skills. “Who? No… No. Definitely, probably not.”

 

“You sure? He’s waving.”

 

_ It’s too late. What have I done? _ “I don’t know who that is. He’s probably waving at someone else. Let’s call a cab.”

 

Woolf cocked his head. “I’m pretty sure he’s waving at you. Well, it looks more like... beckoning.”

 

_ Beckoning? I’m so fucked.  _ Erikson gulped and hoped a freak sinkhole would unceremoniously swallow him and put an end to whatever cruel game God had been playing with him lately.

 

“It looks like there’s a pretty crazy party going on at that hotel, too. Might be fun. Go talk to him, see if he can get us in.” Woolf nudged Erikson in Jules’ direction. Not wanting to look as jittery as he felt, Erikson didn’t resist and let momentum, and fate, propel him toward the darker-skinned boy with dancing eyes.

 

As he neared with Woolf following closely behind, Erikson’s legs almost gave out as he tried making sense of the boy’s… outfit?  _ Does that constitute as clothing? A costume? It’s a costume party. A gay costume party. Why am I walking towards a gay costume party? I feel sick. Where’s that sinkhole I was praying for? _

 

The floral cover-up grazed Jules’ stunning calves as they flexed and balanced on five-inch heels. But the real issue was that the robe hung open, offering glimpses of black straps and silver buckles hugging the boy’s chest. 

 

“Lieutenant.” That same taunting croon... Erikson wanted to melt and start throwing punches at the same time. “I thought you were going to leave without saying hi.”

 

Erikson crossed his arms, hoping to convey calm indifference. “No. I… wasn’t sure if- I’m bad with faces.”

 

“You forgot my face?” the boy mockingly pouted. “I must not’ve made a memorable impression…”

 

_ If only... _

 

“Who’s your friend?” Jules asked, unknowingly rescuing Erikson from whatever clumsy response that was about to escape his lips. 

 

“Oh, right. This is Elliot, my roommate.”  _ He’s comfortable with his masculinity. Me on the other hand... it’s complicated.  _

 

Woolf enthusiastically extended a hand to shake Jules’. “Hi! Nice to meet you! What’s going on here?”

 

Erikson held his breath.  _ Where do I start? I hate this boy with every homophobic cell in my body because of my strict and incredibly conservative father and because I’m scared of the meager chance that I’m moderately attracted to men, well, not men in general, this man, and this man knows it, and he’s fucking with me, he’s just fucking with me, I know it, I’m going- _

 

Jules answered Woolf’s actual question. “It’s a party that my friend throws every season. He designs these.” Jules gestured at the intricate network of leather straps criss-crossing against his otherwise bare body. “They’re vegan leather harnesses. He books the penthouse and usually gets a bunch of models from his figure-drawing classes to wear his stuff to these parties but a few of them bailed so I’m doing him a favor. A huge one.”

 

Woolf, ever comfortable with all things, simply nodded. “Interesting.  _ Vegan _ leather harnesses?”

 

_ Did he  _ have _ to repeat that? _

 

“Yeah. It’s just a stupid, fancy word for pleather.”

 

“Gotcha.” Woolf snickered to himself. “I’m sorry, I just- You look great and all, but that looks  _ so  _ uncomfortable.”

 

_ He does look good. Fuck… Sinkhole, ready when you are. _

 

Jules snorted. “Oh my god, you’re a doll, thank you! But you’re right. My balls are, like, all up in my diaphragm. I can hardly breathe.” The two laughed while Erikson uneasily looked between them. Leave it to Woolf to disarm the smug but tempting boy standing before him in a leather harness. A  _ pleather _ harness. Like he had been gift wrapped and set before Erikson to taunt him.  _  Deny  _ this _ , motherfucker.  _

 

Woolf grimaced. “My scrotum hurts just thinking about it.” 

 

“Well, it’s not like they’re made to be worn for hours, you know. The jockstrap usually gets ripped off after a few minutes,” Jules replied.

 

Woolf looked at Erikson, expression slightly concerned. Erikson realized he was probably making a peculiar face as he desperately tried to not imagine ripping away the pleather tightly hugging Jules’ scrotum.  _ I mean, if he could breathe easier, I’d just be doing him a favor. _

 

“Um, I’m going to see if those girls want to split a cab with us,” Woolf abruptly offered, jerking a thumb back towards the concert venue.

 

_ Fuck. He’s giving us space. Alone time. He knows.  _

 

“Nice to meet you.” Woolf shook Jules’ hand again and then pulled out his phone to check the current wait time for a car back to Sun Valley. “Oh, damn. My phone’s dead. I took way too much video.”

 

“Here, use mine to get the cab,” Erikson said, offering his mobile to Woolf. 

 

“Are you sure? You don’t, uh, need it?” Woolf questioned, looking between Erikson and the beautiful boy in leather.  _ Pleather. _

 

_ Shit. He’s onto me. _ “Why would I need it?” Erikson feebly challenged. 

 

Woolf communicated with raised brows:  _ To get this guy’s number. _

 

_ No. No. I don’t get guys’ numbers. That is not A Thing I Do.  _ Erikson forced the phone into Woolf’s hesitant hands.  _ Please take this from me. _

 

“You have cute friends,” Jules noted as Woolf walked away. “Too bad they’re all straight. Well except for… you know. Tell Superman I’m sorry, by the way. That was a dick move on my part. I saw his picture in the news the other day. He’s the Kerberos pilot and you’re the press secretary? That’s prestigious shit. You and your friends run the Garrison, don’t you?” 

 

“Eh… Not really.” Erikson shrugged sheepishly on the outside. On the inside, his nerves were screaming. And Woolf was probably watching. Watching him make an idiot of himself while faced with pleather and skin and buckles. And a nipple. He could see one nipple when the robe drifted in the breeze. He wanted to vomit, cry, and come all at once. He couldn’t figure out where these overwhelming urges were coming from. And why only with this person? He wanted to know if the boy’s skin was as smooth as it looked. What his faint shadow of stubble would feel like on his lips. What it felt like to have his fingers inside him. Tight. Hot. Yielding.  _ What. The. Fuck? _

 

Overwhelmed, Erikson articulated all of these thoughts aloud into a single, eloquent statement: “I should probably go.”

 

“Oh, OK.” Erikson tried to ignore the slight disappointment in Jules’ voice. “I could probably get you into the party, but my friend hates it if too many straight people crash his events.”

 

“Why? Are we boring?”  _ Please tell me I’m boring and that you never want to see my face again. _

 

Jules grinned. “Sometimes. Usually straighties just wind up staring too much.”

 

_ Like I’m doing now? _

 

“Plus he’s known for super-wild parties and a twenty-dude orgy always gets him the social media attention he wants. Too many straight people staring kinda ruins the vibes.”

 

_ Orgy?  _ Erikson felt jealousy suddenly tear through his gut. He didn’t want anyone to touch Jules. Although he didn’t know if he could bring himself to touch Jules. Maybe if he drank a lot. That would do the trick, send his inhibitions slipping through his asshole as it unclenched.  _ I’m making no sense. _

 

Jules gave up on a getting a verbal response from Erikson after the mention of orgies. “How was the concert?”

 

“Concert?”  _ Oh, right. We were at a concert. Yes. Next to a hotel hosting a gay bondage party potentially ending in an orgy. _ “Yeah. It was good.”

 

Jules squinted to read the sign above the concert venue’s main entrance. “Mumford and Sons Reunion Tour? Oh, god. That’s the straightest shit I’ve ever heard of. Those guys are still alive?”

 

Erikson nervously laughed. “Yeah, they’re alive.”  _ And after this whole exchange I’m surprised that I am, too. Alive, I mean. Not straight. I mean gay. Not gay. Change the subject.  _ “Um, how’s school going?” Erikson blurted.

 

“We still haven’t finished our report because my professor got sidetracked with finalizing a research grant. But it’s funny that we ran into each other. I decided to apply to a few Ph.D. programs and I need a solid dissertation proposal for my applications. I’m having a hard time narrowing my focus but I’m leaning towards quantifying the irretrievable resource commitment to space exploration and how we can justify its environmental impact. I’d like to pick your brain and make sure I’m using correct terminology and stuff.”

 

“OK…” Erikson braced himself for another well-researched tirade on the ethics of the Galaxy Garrison’s environmental policies.

 

“I want to weigh the cost against the benefits to society. People are buzzing because of Kerberos. My niece just started saying that she wants to be an astronaut. It’s obviously inspiring and fulfills that innate curiosity of finding our place in the universe, but how do you quantify that? And by not acknowledging these things and just looking at the financial and environmental expenses of space exploration, we don’t do the field justice. 

 

“I’d like to build a model from social and economic data surrounding major space programs, starting with the space race in the nineteen-sixties, and see if there’s trends in jobs, enrollment in STEM programs, and overall public well-being while controlling for overarching business cycles, international conflict, and stuff like that. And then we’d have a better means of determining whether a mission is worth it.” Jules paused and tapped his finger to his lips in thought before continuing, mostly brainstorming to himself. “I’d have to make sure that the model auto-updates with the market cost of resources in real time. And we’d need to nail down the issue of aluminum oxide pollution from launches. I’ll have to remember to add that tomorrow. I’d need to have best-and-worst-case scenarios for wind speeds to carry the exhaust.”

 

Although he found it distracting to listen to Jules talk about his ideas while sporting heels and studded pleather, Erikson was pleasantly surprised. And thoroughly impressed. “Sounds like you already know your stuff.”

 

“Are you saying I don't need you?”

 

“Well…” Erikson was toeing a dangerous line. But something in his heart cut through his doubts and told him to leap. “Up to you, I guess. But I'm happy to help. Just call me- my work number. Do you still have my business card?”

 

“Oh, I ripped that shit up. Sorry.”

 

“That’s… It’s… Whatever. I emailed you a while back. Did you save that?”

 

“Old emails drop off because my university’s cheap and won’t upgrade cloud storage. Or I deleted it. I can’t recall.”

 

“OK... I can just put my info in your phone, then.”  _ Am I going to give this guy my number? Is this happening? _

 

“I left my cell upstairs. No pockets,” Jules joked, opening his robe wider to demonstrate the impracticalities of his getup. 

 

Erikson drank in the full sight. It was a wonder he didn’t pass out. He wanted this boy. He wanted to  _ be _ this boy with all his sexual confidence, going about his life to the beat of Prince’s “Erotic City” on constant repeat. Erikson wanted his mouth. His throat. His hips. His ankles. His toenails.  _ Toenails? _

 

Erikson glanced down at Jules’ mint green pedicure.  _ Yes. Toenails. _

 

“Wait here,” Jules instructed. He expertly sauntered in his heels up to the hotel valet booth and returned with a pen. “Give me your hand.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’d take your number but then I’d be walking around a leather harness party with a phone number written on me. And then you’d be getting weird phone calls for weeks.”

 

Erikson snickered and, with a fleeting sense of confidence, tried his hand at humor. “That would be a hell of a way to advertise. Hi, I saw this number written on one of your models. I’d like to order nineteen pleather harnesses.”

 

Jules squealed and slapped Erikson’s shoulder. “Nineteen?! Freak! I knew it.”

 

Erikson nervously rubbed at where Jules had just touched him. “I just… pulled a random number out of my ass.” And then he mentally face-palmed.

 

Jules cocked an eyebrow. “You’re naughtier than you let on.”

 

“I’m… really… not.”

 

Jules wrapped his slender fingers around Erikson’s wrist and tugged it towards him. His fingers were surprisingly smooth but strong and Erikson wondered if Jules could feel his racing pulse. 

 

As if signing his autograph for a giddy fan, Jules scrawled his number on Erikson’s forearm. He then shouted past Erikson to an imaginary crowd, “No more autographs, please!” which earned him a few turned heads. Erikson fought the urge to duck his head as Jules drew attention to himself. To both of them. Together. This was the part Erikson knew would be the most difficult.

 

“Don’t wash it off,” Jules instructed.

 

_ I won’t.  _ “I’ll uh, text you tomorrow.”

 

“I’ll wait with bated breath, Lieutenant.”

 

“OK… Uh, have… fun? At your party?”  _ Why was that a question? _

 

Jules groaned. “I’ll try. Hope there aren’t any creeps there.”

 

Once again, Erikson felt that possessive impulse to protect Jules. But he buried it along with all of his repressed sexual desires. “Bye, Mr. Paras.” 

 

Before walking through the hotel’s revolving door, Jules turned around. “You can call me Jules.”

 

\-----

 

Erikson heard the bathroom door hinges creak. Sensing his boyfriend’s presence, he pushed the shower curtain open a few inches and watched a sleepy-eyed Jules step into the bathroom. He wore one of Erikson’s tee shirts that he’d apparently decided looked better hacked in half and worn as a crop top. “Hey, Chuck Norris,” Jules greeted with a spare tee in his hands.

 

Erikson chuckled and shook his head. “These nicknames you and Medina keep coming up with... Did I wake you?”

 

“Well, I heard the shower running for a long time so I wanted to make sure you were OK. And then I realized you probably don’t have any clothes to change into.”

 

“What? I have clothes around somewhere.”

 

“No, remember? I threw away all your polos.”

 

“I have some polos here, I just don’t know where they are.”

 

“Well shit, I hoped you’d just have to run around naked for the next few weeks. I will find this alleged polo stash and put an end to its preppy existence. Mark my words.”

 

Erikson laughed, pushing the wet hair out of his eyes. “Sorry I woke you.”

 

“Don’t apologize. You’re the one who needs sleep. You doing OK?” Jules approached and kneeled next to the tub.

 

Erikson nodded. 

 

“You’ve gotta be running out of hot water by now. What are you doing?”

 

“Thinking about you,” Erikson replied with a goofy grin.

 

The corners of Jules’ lips pulled into an impish smirk as he peered behind the shower curtain. Erikson’s cock was semi-hard from reminiscing about his close encounter with Jules in fetish gear. “What are you planning on doing about that?”

 

“The original plan was to ignore it and pass out on the bed next to you,” Erikson responded matter-of-factly.

 

“I wanna touch you.”

 

Erikson licked his lips and ignored his protesting libido. “I need to talk to you, Jules.”

 

“We can talk tomorrow,” Jules pouted.

 

“It’s important. I was such a prick and you deserve so much better. I love you. I only want to be with you. And knowing I had to get back to you is what helped me get out of that place,” Erikson said, sitting upright in the tub.

 

Jules’ lip trembled as he silently nodded his thanks. 

 

“You make me so happy, and you were right, I should have gotten over my stupid shit and told you I loved you sooner. I hope you can forgive me. But I understand if you- you know, don’t feel the same way.” Erikson hesitated to reach for Jules, not wanting to get water all over him. But Jules solved the problem for him and pulled Erikson’s dripping palm to his lips and then slid it over his cheek.

 

“I missed you so much,” Jules sniffled. “I think I feel the same way... but I might need some time.”

 

Hand still cupping Jules’ cheek, Erikson ran his thumb along Jules’ cheekbone to wipe away a tear and then leaned forward, pulling Jules closer. “I understand,” he whispered against Jules’ mouth before kissing him. Jules eagerly parted his lips.

 

“I want to be able to say it- I just...” Jules admitted breathlessly between the press and slide of their mouths against one another.

 

Erikson paused and nodded. He understood. He’d messed with Jules’ head and made so many empty promises before. “I was so fucking stupid. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

 

Mischief and desire twinkled through the tears in Jules’ eyes. “Anything?”

 

Erikson had been prepared for this. He’d thought about it during his imprisonment and meditated on how best to prove his commitment to Jules. To show him how their relationship would be different this time around. “Anything,” he confirmed.

 

“Dammit, Jesper. Nineteen fucking pleather harnesses and I didn’t pack a single one,” Jules teased, referring to their running joke and Erikson’s botched attempt at humor. “I guess I’ll have to settle for blow jobs on demand until we can get you fitted for a harness.”

 

Erikson grinned and captured Jules’ mouth with his again. “Actually,” he started, nipping at Jules’ lower lip before continuing. “I want you to fuck me.”

 

Jules leaned away, face frozen in shock. “You what?”

 

“I know we’ve always been one-sided, so…I want to try. For you.” Erikson began doubting himself. Maybe that had been too much, too soon. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to-”

 

“No, it’s not that. I just don’t top that often. And it’s been a long time,” Jules admitted. “I don’t usually keep boys for very long, so we never… get to that point...”

 

Erikson hated himself for being another one of those guys in Jules’ life. Someone that took from him and assumed that he wouldn’t want it any other way. “Well, I’m keeping you forever if you let me, so… Maybe we’re at that point. It’ll obviously be my first time.” He then reached out to draw Jules near again. “I just want you to know how good you make me feel. You feel so good,” he mumbled against Jules’ mouth and then trailed kisses down his neck. He reached a warm, wet hand to the obvious erection constricted by Jules' neon yellow trunks.

 

Jules sucked in a breath. “I take it back. I  _ do  _ love you,” he blurted.

 

Erikson snickered. “You don’t have to tell me yet.”

 

“Save it for while I’m fucking you?”

 

“If that’s how you want it. You gonna be good to me? You gonna make me shout your name? I want you inside me so badly.” Erikson had always remained silent when they had sex. It was liberating to not hold back and say things that would make Jules lose his composure.

 

The look on Jules’ face was definitely worth it.

 

“Fuck. OK.” Jules pulled at Erikson’s shoulders with needy urgency. “Get your ass into the bedroom. Now.”

 

Erikson obeyed and turned off the water. No longer tethered by his ego, his heart swelled with love and carried him into Jules’ arms. He saw clearly, saw how they were always meant to be, with Jules at his side. Not as support, but as an equal. Despite the obstacles looming over tomorrow’s horizon, he felt a freeing euphoria of what his future held for him, not just in the next hour, but the years to come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more chapters added to this random collection. If you have a request or idea, hit me up in the comments or on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/latart)
> 
> And you know I added "Erotic City" to [Erikson + Jules’](https://open.spotify.com/user/vn4nlsmslld9gxecp47ntmz4a/playlist/4ebQVNl7TPAdYO1J62z06m?si=SRKsnVVQS0S--HEd_ObSiQ) playlist. Because that's what I spend my time doing. Laundry? What the fuck is laundry?


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